


Awake

by pretty_mr_sanders (shipit)



Category: Sanders Sides, Thomas Sanders, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Can be seen as platonic, Comfort, Hot Chocolate, Hurt/Comfort, Insomnia, M/M, Storms, depression (?)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-12-02 03:27:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11500824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shipit/pseuds/pretty_mr_sanders
Summary: It's hard to sleep or stay awake when you're empty inside.





	Awake

Sometimes Anxiety can’t sleep. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t drown in unconsciousness and allow himself to recharge for the next day. He has a routine for it: at one am, he makes himself decaffeinated tea. Two brings a nice calming book. By three, he starts watching TV sitcom reruns, Four finds him staring out his window and jotting down fragments of poetry, fleeting ghosts of ideas that disappear as quickly as they come. Finally, at five, he goes outside and lays in the dewy grass to wait for the sun to rise over his exhausted, ragged body. His hood is usually drawn over his face by then to preserve some sense of privacy and intimacy with the sun. These mornings are common, but magical to him. None of the others ever bother him. For once, he’s left to his own devices and allowed to be calm, untainted by stress.

Every now and then come the sleepless nights that hurt. Those nights dig their claws into his shoulders to carry him somewhere far away where the shadows shift and voices whisper your shortcomings in your ears until it drives you insane. He hates those nights because there’s no peace in his sorrow, only the usual pain. Any sleep he does get on those nights is restless and littered with nightmares that shake him for days. It’s not worth it to attempt rest. 

Tonight, he isn’t sure what kind of insomnia has taken hold of him. More than anything else, he’s numb. Empty. His movements are slow and robotic on the few occasions he manages to get himself to move at all. All his energy is gone, but he can’t sleep to regain it. Almost four hours of him lying in the dark, staring at the ceiling have past. He isn’t even really thinking or feeling. It’s mostly just silent existence. He’s utterly indifferent to his inability to get to sleep. The more he thinks about it, the more he applies his indifference to anything that might come to mind. If he caught fire, he would probably just lie there and burn. Maybe it would finally allow him to think. Briefly, he considers lighting a match but ultimately doesn’t have the energy to seek one. So instead, he continues to just feel the weight of his clothes on his body, the drag of his fingertips on the sheets, and the dip of his mattress to accommodate his weight on it.

“Anxiety?” He can barely raise his head from the pillow to look towards the door. On the other side, Logan stands, waiting, with his hair a mess and tie loose around his neck. “I know you’re awake. Can I come in?” Anxiety doesn’t answer. His head falls back with a soft thud and he bites his lip. When he gets like this, sometimes the sharp pain gives him an opportunity to feel  _ something _ . 

His door cracks open, revealing Logan, who steps inside and shuts the door behind him quietly. Neither of them speak because the silence is heavy like a tarp that shouldn’t- can’t- be broken. Logan sits on the edge of Anxiety’s mattress and plays with his fingers, unsure what to do or say. The mattress shifts from Logan allowing himself to fall back and lay beside Anxiety on the mattress. He snaps his fingers, making the ceiling vanish to reveal the clear sky and all of its bright stars. Even the full moon is there to stare down at them. It’s pretty, but almost empty. Fake. No joy or relaxation comes from it. 

As it so happens, Anxiety imagines a cloud covering the sky, one heavy with rain and charged with electricity. Only moments pass before it starts to shower them. He flinches when lightning flashes in the sky accompanied by the heavy roll of thunder. Logan instinctively wraps an arm around him and pulls him into his side. He tenses again for a moment, unsure of the unfamiliar contact, but quickly relaxes. Out of everything to happen, this is probably the best. There’s a certain security to being held against someone so warm when the world is crashing down around Anxiety. Lately he’s been debating about his purpose and if the others really want him around; more specifically, if Princey’s hate is worth it. But it’s hard to be negative with Logan so close. Comforting.

“You should be asleep.”

Anxiety nods. He should be asleep, but then again, so should Logan, and here they both are, letting the rain splatter down onto them in a freezing barrage that’s not entirely unwelcome. The water makes him feel. Even if it’s just a cold splash of rain he brought upon himself, he likes to feel something physical to fight the emptiness tightening its hold on his heart and lungs.

Thunder crashes in the sky again, making Anxiety press himself closer to Logan and let his head to rest above Logan’s steady breathing. His heart is racing, but Anxiety doesn’t comment on it. It’s not his place to, not when they’re together like this. Should he choose to, he might receive a question in response about the pain written on his face. Neither of them are really one for sharing their emotions.

For some reason, the storm begins to ease, albeit slowly. The lightning moves farther away and the thunder quiets, then it halts altogether. Pouring rain tapers off into a light sprinkle, and then to nothing. Eventually, the clouds start to shift away on an unseen, unfelt breeze. Nearly a full hour passes before the sky is back to clear view of the velvety night broken in pinpricks of light. Anxiety has to admit that it’s beautiful, and it feels much more soothing now that his storm has blown over. He makes a noise of complaint when Logan sits up and nudges him off, promising to be right back.

Three minutes later, Logan returns with two mugs of hot chocolate and his only hoodie. He sets the mugs down and helps Anxiety into the jacket before picking the drinks back up and giving Anxiety one of them. Simultaneously, they drink, relishing in the warmth falling from their mouths to their stomachs. That, at least, gives them something real to focus on, and by the time the mugs are empty, it’s nearing four in the morning and exhaustion is finally starting to tug at Anxiety’s eyes. He doesn’t say anything about it, but Logan understands what it means when he finally stretches out like a cat and settles his head in Logan’s lap. With a rare smile, Logan pulls the blanket over him and cards through his hair until finally, Anxiety falls into a dreamless sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> my tumblr is coincidentally also pretty-mr-sanders


End file.
